


The Things We Do For Love

by Rainylynne



Category: Achievement Hunter, Fake AH crew - Fandom, GTA AU - Fandom, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: AU, Blood, Death, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, OC character - Freeform, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainylynne/pseuds/Rainylynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowan's used to the life, she's used to running after a particularly bad job, and so things like this are normal for her. What she's not used to, however, is finding another gang. What does this mean for her? Better yet, what does it mean for the crew?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Do For Love

Why does she do these things? It’s a question often asked, especially on days like today as a young woman stays hidden in an alleyway. Maybe it was because she liked the rush, maybe it was because she was good at it. Maybe it was for the money, the infamy, or maybe even just for the hell of it. She looks up to a building across the street, giving a nod and letting out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.   
The convenience store is small, and a good start for testing out a new teammate. Perfect, really, since she didn’t want to get caught if things went wrong. She tucks long black hair behind her ears, then pulls it into a loose bun at the back of her head, walking through the isles quietly and appearing to be intently looking for something.   
A man comes in not long after her, blond, tall, and looking every part the fitting beach boy of the area. He barely looks at her, giving a nod and a tiny smile. She can only roll her eyes at him, grabbing a six-pack and heading towards the register. He follows after her a bit too enthusiastically. The woman sighs and shakes her head, setting the carton on the counter.  
“Could I see your ID ma’am?” The heavyset cashier looks expectantly, and the woman twists to search through her purse, giving an almost twisted grin as she withdraws with a beretta tomcat.   
“This good enough for you, sweetheart?” His face loses color as she hops up onto the counter, handing the beretta to her partner and pulling an open sack from her purse. “Because it’s good enough for me. Now gimme the money.”   
“You heard her bitch, put the money in the bag!” Her partner is loud but shaky and fires off a show at the man’s shoulder. Brown eyes spark as the woman looks back at her partner, easily pissed off now. She grabs the money from the now open cash register and hops off the counter, leaving the man to bleed behind the counter. He’s holding his shoulder and she’s sure now that he tripped an alarm. The pair of thieves make a mad dash outside and down the alley, boarding an unmarked black van.  
“What the shit, Campbell?! You fucking shot him!” The blond man is shaky, his face paled and lips quivering like he’s trying to speak. His first shooting, from her guess. He might not have taken it so badly if it weren’t, that or he just didn’t like shooting.  
“He shot the dude?” The driver looks back from around the seat, a tall woman with silver hair over brown eyes. She’s shocked and appalled by the idea, then just shakes her head disapprovingly.  
“Shut up and step on the gas, Cerda” The command is final, and the dark haired woman keeps staring at the man before her. Of course, “Cerda” doesn’t take it lightly. The grumbling and white-knuckle grip on the wheel says that well enough. None of them want to be caught, even as accessories to the crime though, so she drives.  
“I… I-I had to! I thought he was-”  
“No you didn’t think, kid, that’s why you fucking shot him!”  
“I thought he’d trip the alarm if I didn’t!” Campbell slams a fist onto the seatback in front of him. The darker haired woman raises a brow at his fist, then moves across the empty space between their seats.  
“Well you know what McCoy? More than likely now, he did trip the alarm. How do you feel having that on your shoulders?” She places a slender palm on one of his arms, clenching it and digging small but sharp nails into his skin. Her hand is slapped away with a roll of his eyes. He turns the safety on and finally hands the beretta back to her.  
Hostile silence sets in the van, and they try to ignore the sirens coming for the gas station. McCoy sends a pointed look to Campbell as she takes the tomcat and moves back across from The only seats in a correct position were the front two, and for the time being it worked for their getaway. Tension feels thick in the air, like the smallest spark could light a fire.  
It’s finally Cerda who breaks the silence, asking only for a moment where to pick up the lookout. She was sent a few blocks around before snagging a short brunette woman and watching as the newcomer leaves a (most likely) stolen harley leaned against a building.  
“Cydney.” McCoy gives a nod of acknowledgment as the brunette hops into the vehicle and leans heavily against Campbell. The blond gives a kiss to her head and wraps an arm around her, sending a pang of jealousy through the darker haired woman across from the couple. It has a similar effect on Cerda from the front, and she floors it as they make their escape.  
“Rowan,” returns the lounging woman. There’s a grin on her lips, devilish and proud. She has what her teammate wants, and flaunting it like she does is common. She tugs on a beanie from her back pocket and relaxes into the man’s lap.  
No one noticed the tears in their driver’s eyes at this display, the sharp pain of nostalgia at seeing her old lover so obnoxious with the man. No one noticed the semi that she darted in front of in her teary haze, not until it slammed into the side of the van. The impact kills the man, and his short lover’s spine snaps. Rowan makes it her first priority to force open the back doors of the van and run for it.  
Her mind tries not to settle on the dead man that had landed against her knees, or the short girl who’d fallen to the floor beneath him. She tries not to think about the crying driver who’d likely get caught if she stayed in the car too long. Her mind is on two things, the bag full of cash in her hand and the only reason she pulls off these stunts.   
There’s a little boy in an apartment across town, and she loves that little boy with all her heart. What was the real reason she did these things, you ask? Rowan McCoy has a son, about six years old. His name is Ayden, and he’s the only thing in her life that matters anymore. With the death of his father came the life of crime his mother led.  
When she gets home, it’s a bit past eight and she’s covered in blood. The babysitter is passed out on the couch, as per usual, and her first thing is to stash the money in her dresser. Ayden is asleep in her bed, surrounded by a pile of stuffed animals, so she slips off to shower and clean herself up. Settling into bed after is what woke him up.  
“How was work, mama?” He turns over to her and lays a tiny hand on her cheek. Her smile gives him a sleepy one of his own as her own hand is placed over his.  
“Work was somethin, baby. Work was somethin. Now go back to sleep, kiddo.” He gives a little yawn and snuggles up to his mother, black curls tickling her nose.  
This is why she risks her life so often, and she was proud of it.


End file.
